


Flightless

by GedankenTheory



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Post-Sburb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GedankenTheory/pseuds/GedankenTheory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When everything changes for the better, sometimes, you find, that other things don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flightless

Shit, you don’t know why you bother. Why do you even fucking try?

It’s not like they give a rat’s ass about you anyway. You’re just the third cog in the machine. The small, minute little thing that’s just spinning all by its lonesome. It isn’t even needed. It’s just there simply because it is.

You wish you still had your wings to wrap around you. Still have something there that could grant you some kind of reassurance, at least. But, you are without that rad set of Sunkist-coloured wings now. You’re just… human.

It’s like you’re simply here just because SBURB wanted to give you a big fuck you and troll all over your face.

Where do you even go from here, seriously? Do you just spend your days wondering whether you even belong here anymore?

Fuck, this is all just one big mess.

You lay curled up beneath the mess of blankets that you call a nest, attempting to actually find a damn to give over the fact that your mind is still half-bird.

Half the brain of a guy, half the brain of a seppuku’d crow.

You shuffle further under the warmth of the blankets, switching your mind off to the process leading you to increased mean-green fucking anger.

But, it didn’t help that, mentally, you are already starting to fight with your inner-most thoughts. Thoughts that just circled and circled around inside your skull like those damned ghosts of the underworld in their watery prison. SBURB was such a fuck-up as to grant you a thirteen-year old body when you are definitely not. That. Age. You are twenty-fucking-years-old. And this isn’t fucking fair.

Bro and ‘older’ Dave treat you as if you have the actual mindset of your physical appearance.

And that is just so fucking great.

So fantastic that you could breakdance right in front of them on legs that you can’t control.

Seriously, you are just as useful on these things as a snake is when granted four of them.

Sure, on one side of the coin at least you’ve been whisked back to the brand-new reconstructed Earth as a human being and not as a bird. But, it didn’t mean that you couldn’t have had some special kind of warning in advance against the fact that you are as useful now as a baby who’s just started to learn how to walk.

You close your eyes, trying to shut out everything around you, trying to shut out your own damn thoughts.

Curling deeper within the blanket-nest, you let sleep overtake you.

*

You wake to shouting further down the hall.

Ah, the anger of your sort-of-siblings (well, in the case of ‘older’ Dave, anyway).

You hear Dave’s deep voice (deeper than yours, but your own should be that way too, damn it.) and Bro’s nasty, gruffer response. It sounds like they are fighting over something trivial again. Just fucking great.

“Can you shut it?!” you yell. “I’m trying to get some beauty sleep!”

Silence falls. Just to be picked right back up again ten seconds later.

You sigh loudly and shove your hands over your ears.

It doesn’t help much.

*

You end up waking up some time later feeling more weary than when you’d actually decided to go to bed.

You lay where you are for a while, staring up at the pallid yellow ceiling. It’s such a crappy colour. You’d think that the sun had decided to come on down and puke all over it then flash anyone nearby a big shit-eating grin as it went shooting back up into the sky with the way it looked.

Your legs are tangled up in your covers, one of your arms lifted up behind your head, with the other resting upon your chest. You’re comfortable enough. But, you would prefer to listen to that one part of you that’s yelling for you to get back to sleep. Not like that’s an actual option now that you’re up. No matter how tired you feel now, once you’ve awoken back to reality, it's impossible to go back to sleep.

You sit up and attempt to untangle your legs from the knots of the covers, and then slip off of the mattress.

In all honesty, you have no fucking clue what you’re going to be doing now.

Maybe toddle around the apartment like the toddler that your legs think you are, doing shit-all and having nothing else to do. Still, it will help you to keep your balance, you guess. Gotta get fully used to walking sometime. Although, you say that and you have negative zero balance even when you’re actually trying.

With the greatest sigh in the history of sighs, you fish out some second-hand Strider clothes from your drawer, put them on in a fantastically graceful fashion, and walk outside.

*

Everything is quiet, which is actually incredibly brilliant on many levels.

Brilliant because this quiet would have helped you get back to sleep. Brilliant because now you’ve got all of the time in the world to think, and brilliant because it’s different.

Usually, you are bombarded by noise and the discord that commonly occurs between Bro and Dave. Honestly, you wonder why older you doesn’t just move out. The constant bickers and strifes between the pair of  them would definitely illicit you into wanting to shift your butt into high-gear and move out, but no, you’re not able to until you’re ‘older’. So, you have to keep listening to their stupid antics around the clock.

You pad across the carpet, your hands shoved into the recesses of your trouser pockets.

… At least Bro was back. That was what really mattered. It was better that he was here, than a ghost far, far away somewhere else.

Not that he even remembers coming back from the dead.

Not that anyone actually remembers being a part of SBURB… Apart from you.

You are pretty damn sure that that fucking game did all of this to taunt you.

Oh, sure, I’ll bring your bro back to life and let everyone have their old lives back to boot, but, you’re not exactly Dave anymore, are you? I’m sorry but you can’t be like him. We can’t make you think you are a fucking twin of him or something and forget the whole incident about the game. You have to remember it all and suffer.

You barely even recall going up the stairs, and only realize now that you are standing before Dave’s room when you come to a stop before it.

His computer’s on, beeping away in a quiet, but incessant manner.

Where is he?

Maybe out getting drunk, finding another job or some other shit. You aren’t exactly him now, are you? How the fuck would you know what he was doing?

You tell your mind to shut it with the dumb thoughts and, not giving a damn about supposed privacy (regardless of whether Dave was actually there or not), you step into his room.

It’s a mess, as usual.

Photos on the floor, random things scribbled on paper that are either flatdown or scrumpled up. There’s even one of Bro’s shitty katanas on the floor, though you don’t know how that came to be in here.

The computer is still beeping away.

You walk over and lean in to have a look.

… ectoBiologist.

It’s John.

_Way to leave your and my own best bro hangin’,_ you think, sweeping away a few objects littering his desk and plopping down on his chair. Might as well take up the mantle here and reply to your past best bro. You can’t just leave him hanging like a certain ‘older’ Dave did.

EB: dave!

EB: dave! you there?

TG: yo

EB: dave! hey!

TG: its technically younger dave

TG: or the more cool one

TG: ive won the best snowman award for it

EB: oh, hey!

EB: is, uh, older dave around?

TG: nope hes off doing whatever the fuck older him does

EB: well, if you find the time to talk to him, can you tell him that his best bro is trying to get in touch with him after a few days of not talking to his sorry ass?

TG: sure

TG: just leave it to me

TG: ill be the messenger bird rising up on imposing wings to deliver your letter in quick-time

EB: you know, i don’t think me and you have talked that much actually. dave’s mentioned you sometimes but, i’ve never been able to talk to you properly.

TG: well were talking properly right

TG: you know through the beautiful blue and red text that presents us in all its glory

EB: hehe, yeah!

EB: so, what does younger dave get up to during his busy schedule of nothing?

TG: oh well you know just wandering around

TG: creating sweetass beats and producing picasso style art

TG: the usual

EB: why picasso?

TG: why not?

TG: any art is art

TG: its just trying to see past the weirdo nose and flying eyes thats the hard part

EB: pff, i guess.

You are suddenly gripped by a notion. A notion to ask him about _that game._

TG: hey

EB: hm?

TG: have you ever heard of a game called sburb

EB: sburb?

TG: yeah

EB: hmm, i think so… it sounds familiar.

EB: what's it about?

TG: its… hard to explain

TG: all scifi shit and stuff

EB: well, if i can convince dave to let me come round, then maybe you could tell me about it at some point during my visit?

TG: huh

TG: sure

You… hadn’t been expecting that.

EB: anyway, i’ve gotta get going

EB: see ya later!

TG: yeah later

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

So, your kind of best bro was thinking of paying you guys a visit? That was different. A definite change from the norm.

Hopefully, if your messaging bird ways get through to older you and he actually pesters John back, then you would have lovely quiet-ish days to look forward to.

You don’t know why the quiet seems more of a comfort to you now than the almost ever present noise and booming stereo music that you should have gotten used to, seeing that you had created a lot of that noise yourself back before SBURB was a thing. Maybe it was the crow side of you, or maybe it was just that the quiet has become something more of a haven than the cacophonic noise you are presented with daily.

Whatever the case, it will surely make a change around here if John does end up a temporary resident of this mess of a nest.

Besides – the slightest bit of hope settles down in your chest – he’d said that SBURB sounded familiar. Maybe… maybe you’re not the only one who still remembers after all.

*

You passed your message on to older you the next day. Almost instantly, he went back into the confines of his room, leaving you to wander the house again by your lonesome. You’re seriously considering building a mountain of smuppets in the middle of the living room. You seriously are. It would ease your boredom a bit and help pass the time.

… Yeah, you’ll go and do that (even though one part of your brain is repeatedly yelling no, over and over again).

Fuck Dave’s reaction (fuck your own sub-conscious one, you’re consciously doing this so shove it other side of your brain).

Really, it would be incredibly funny if he reacts badly to it. You just need popcorn, a place to hide within plain sight and paitence to wait around for his imminent arrival.

Forty minutes later, you have created your perfect mountain. It stands in the middle of the room and you just pull up a chair a little behind it. There was no popcorn, so you had to make do with apple juice (which is actually a huge plus). You sit down.

It only feels like a few minutes later that Dave is clomping his way down the stairs and into the living room. He prepares to shout up the stairs when he stops and sees the smuppets.

“BRO, WHAT THE FUCK?”

You try your damndest not to snigger. It’s hard. You manage to keep it down with a slurp from your bottle of AJ.

Bro’s in the room faster than you can say Rainbow Dash. “What?” he grunts, then he notices the pile of smuppets and smirks.

“Don’t you smirk. Don’t you dare smirk you asshole,” Dave growls. “You did this on purpose.”

“Nope, wasn’t me,” he says.

You just continue to sit idly by, kicking your legs out and sipping on the AJ every so often.

“Like fuck it wasn’t. They’re planted right in the middle of the room.”

“Maybe they wanted to have a smuppet party.”

“A smuppet…? No, you know what. I’m not gonna even ask. You just carry on with this puppet orgy thing, you’ve got going on. I’m just –“ Dave rakes a hand through his blonde hair. “John’s going to be coming round. There, I’ve said it, and I am fucking absconding, right now. I’ve got better things to do than question your god-like logic for all things puppet-related.”

“I’ll be having a tea-party with ‘em later!” Bro calls up the stairs, as Dave stomps back up them.

As soon as he was gone, Bro turns back to look at the smuppet mountain. “I know you’re there.”

You jump a little, surprised that he actually even noticed you. ‘Older’ Dave had been too intent on his little rage and Bro hadn’t seemed to be paying any attention to your hiding place at all. But, that was Bro. He would seem like he wasn’t paying attention, but really, behind those shades, he’d already pinpointed where you were perched and shot you down from it with a single sentence.

“It’s a lovely piece of art, isn’t it?” you tell him, remaining where you are.

“Much lovely. So art. Wow.”

You quirk your lips upward into a small smirk.

“I’ll rearrange it later into the best fuckin’ tea-party you ever did see,” he says.

You stand up and walk around the smuppet pile, sipping from your bottle. “I’ll help. You can’t just leave them crying for AJ later, gotta make sure that they have plenty of it.”

Bro gives you a curt nod in agreement, his head still turned in the direction of the beautiful mountainous pile. He looks… thoughtful, but you can’t be too sure. The light is falling across his poker-face in a way that could be sending you fucked up signals on the expression front.

“So, we’ll be serving a guest a while from now,” you say. “Looking forward to it?”

Bro grunts. “As much as any waiter does.”

Fighting back the urge to smile, you casually head up the stairs and to your room, feeling  just the faintest flickers of excitement alighting in your chest.

*

Two weeks later and the apartment explodes into racket.

Dave’s yelling at Bro to clean up, and Bro’s yelling back to Dave that he won’t.

In your defense, your part in the mega clean-up is over and done with. You actually put a bit of effort into sorting out the shithole that was your cosy nest and now you are just chillaxing and letting your siblings handle all the rest of the dirty work (you lazy bastard, you).

You don’t see the point in cleaning the whole apartment up but, it’s up to them. They can do what they like. You can just sit and chill.

They’re still arguing and you have the urge to slam the door shut on them. But, you stay where you are.

You lean back in your chair, eyes on the outside.

The sky is as blue today as it could ever be in a hundred years. You feel a sense of calm looking out at it. Even with the skyscrapers reaching up to distract you from the view.

Downstairs, the Strider yells have quietened.

They’ve probably sorted it out.

Would John actually bother to come over and talk with you, like he said he would?

It’s not like you’re his age anymore (Well, you fucking should be. But, look what fucked up majorly? Yeah, SBURB did).

Heck, your own supposed relatives treat you differently. Of _course_ John would treat you differently too. Although, he hadn’t really done anything of the sort during your text conversation with him. But, that was a conversation in text. Would it so easily come through into your typed up words onto the glare of the screen? Well, it depended on the words used…

No, fuck this noise. You were just going around in circles anyway.

You hear a knock at the door and the sound of it being opened.

You sit up straighter in your chair.

John’s voice echoes up to you.

You shift a little, turning to look at the door.

For a moment, you hesitate. Then you stand up and make your way downstairs to greet him.

*

The reception goes as expected. A ‘hello’, a few interesting statements from Dave and some form of greeting from Bro.

What isn’t expected is when John gives you a hug. Well, he does it with the others, although Bro flashes away when it’s his turn.

John treats you just the same as Dave. You’re not any less of a person for being a kid, even despite the fact that he’s five or six years older than you.

Still, he leaves you to your own devices when older you suggests that they watch a film. You’re left alone and feel something creep up to curl around your heart. You viciously stab at it with a fork and drag it into the darkest recesses of your mind where it can’t be accessed, then start to head back upstairs to your room.

Until, you’re stopped dead when John asks whether you can join in on the fun of watching some crappy movie. Dave shrugs and says that it’s fine by him.

You end up leaning against the armrest on the opposite side of the couch. You try to focus on the movie but, all that really registers in your mind is that it’s full of explosions and action-packed scenes.

Throughout it, your mind is reeling.

*

He would be staying at the household for a week, so he told ‘older’ you.

And you’re pleased by that.

It means that you’ve got more time to talk, have more time to get to know this guy that used to be your best bro but was now your older self’s.

You don’t really know how to feel about that.

For the most part, you ignore it. That thought that nags at you in the back of your head. But sometimes, it rears up to strike when you least expect it, and you end up feeling like you’ve gone and dunked yourself under an ice-cold lake.

You feel like you’re alone in this. Cut-off from conversations that you’d usually engage yourself in. Break away from things that generally you’d take part in.

It’s difficult.

You didn’t think it had ever been this bad before.

At least back before John’s arrival, you’d actually had somewhat of a normal routine going. You talked sometimes with Bro and ‘older’ you (although you would wind up feeling strange talking with your older self after a while, it was off and horrible and stupid). They are your family, after all, even if they treat you slightly differently. It’s just that, always, you would have this empty feeling, like you’re missing something.

It’s even more intense now.

*

On the third day of his visit, John asks whether he can talk with you.

You shrug. “Sure,” you say.

You walk with him back to your room and sit on your bed, then gesture over to your computer chair at his where-can-I-sit look.

He’s been quiet the whole trip down. You have a strange sensation. It’s like he’s wanting to say something, but doesn’t know how to word it.

“I – I have heard of SBURB,” he says quietly, sitting down.

You look at him. Your heart is suddenly hammering away in your chest. “What?”

“I couldn’t really say much on Pesterchum, it would sound _nuts_.” He laughs nervously, looking down at his hands. “But… yeah, I’ve heard of it. Do you… know much about it?”

With a nod, you look away for a moment. “Yeah. I’ve… played it. Been a part of the whole thing.”

John lets out a breath in one big whoosh of air and leans back. “I thought… I thought I was the only one. I – I’ve played it too. It was immense! Like, there’s no way that I can perfectly describe everything that happened and it would sound so insane to anyone if I did blurt it out and-“ He stopped and shook his head with a small smile. “It’s just… I was confused, you know? To know that there’s two of you now.”

You turn back to stare at him, and he shakes his head quickly. “Not that I mean that in a bad way! I just – I didn’t expect how things turned out. You’re… Dave sprite, right?”

“… Yeah.”

John beams at you, then. Really beams. Shiny teeth and everything. “I’m glad you’re here. I thought that once we got back, or whatever the heck was going to happen to us, all of the sprites would just disappear… But, my nanna’s still around, so it made me think that you’d be too.”

He pauses for a moment, his brows furrowed slightly. “I think that Nanna knows about SBURB but, she doesn’t talk to me about it.”

“Maybe she thinks that you don’t know about it anymore,” you say. “There wouldn’t be much point in bringing up something that you know nothing about.”

“Yeah but, she could’ve done what you did. She could have asked in a kind of subtle way, or something…” He shakes his head. “Not that I mind. I’m just… so glad that things turned out the way they did.”

You look away. You don’t feel the same way that he does. SBURB fucked up.

“Dave sprite… I don’t think that this is a bad thing.”

Quickly, you turn back to look at him.

He’s smiling softly. “I’ve noticed that you don’t say much. To the others, or to me but, Bro and Dave really care about you. It’s better that you’re here and not… whatever the heck could have happened to you and the others, right?”

“I… yeah.” You don’t really know what else to say. The same thoughts have gone through your mind before but, it always sounded so different in your head.

“Besides, you’re not the only one who knows about the game! I do too!” John flashes you an amiable smile. “You know… if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here, or online, once I go back home. You’re not alone in this.”

For a moment, you just stare at him. It’s as if your mind has just blanked out on you. It’s hard to put together the right words, to think of anything that would work in this moment. So, you just nod wordlessly.

He stands up then, and walks toward the door. “Me and Dave will be battling it out on Super Smash Bros. Brawl. If you want to join in, you’re welcome to.” He turns around just before he steps out into the corridor, a mischievous look on his face. “You could troll the heck out of us, or maybe I’ll troll the heck out of you two, who knows?” He casually shrugs and exits.

You’re left to sit there and ponder over everything he’d said.

It was almost as if he’d read your mind but, then again, with the way you’d been acting it had probably been written all over your forehead in big black ink anyway.

You sigh, feeling a sudden rush of relief overcome you. ‘You’re not alone in this.’ It echoes back to you. You smile, just a little.

You stand up, and follow after John.

He was right. You aren’t alone.

You ended the game with everyone.

You’re still you.

And you still have your best bro and your brother (with an older sibling +1) beside you.

Even if SBURB fucked up on so many levels, at least you’re here; alive, and still remembered by those you care about.

That’s all that really matters in the end.


End file.
